


I Feel a Kind of Fear (When I Don’t Have You Near)

by JojoJay



Series: Far Beyond [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman Beyond, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Baby Terry McGinnis, Childhood Friends, Gen, Terry is nervous bless him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:13:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27579647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JojoJay/pseuds/JojoJay
Summary: Terry is starting at his new school today. For the first time since his parents' died, he'll be on his own. But he won't be for long.
Relationships: Chelsea Cunningham & Terry McGinnis, Maxine Gibson & Terry McGinnis, Terry McGinnis & Bruce Wayne, Terry McGinnis & Dana Tan, Terry McGinnis & Melanie Walker
Series: Far Beyond [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2006110
Comments: 4
Kudos: 56





	I Feel a Kind of Fear (When I Don’t Have You Near)

The limo pulls up outside of Gotham Academy almost silently. Terry would almost have preferred the squeak of the tires against the gravel to this, because at least then it would take away from the tension building up in his stomach.

He’s only been here for a solid five seconds and he hates it. His old school was hardly this shiny, and he never showed up in a limo driven by a butler before. The only consistency Terry has is Matt, but even that won’t last for long. They’ve both had it explained to them very thoroughly, Matt is simply too young to join Terry at school, and Terry has already lost enough of his education. Which is ridiculous, it’s second grade, he’s hardly learning Shakespeare. And Terry would have rebutted this, but Bruce was oddly insistent on his kids prioritising their education before anything else. Terry only got one month of settling into his new normal before he was being shipped off to the family’s school.

The ride to the school was incredibly uncomfortable. Bruce insisted on making mindless conversation, while Terry drowned him out in favour of numbing his everything. He didn’t want to be here. He wanted to be back at Hamilton Elementary. He wanted his mom to drive him to school. He didn’t want this.

Next to him was Matt, happily babbling to him about one thing or another, Terry wasn’t really listening. Alfred, the family’s butler and surrogate grandfather, was driving in complete silence while Bruce tried to tame Terry’s worries. But Terry wasn’t worried about starting a new school. He wasn’t.

“All of the kids have gone here, Terry, you have nothing to worry about.” And that’s a full on lie. Terry knows Damian attends West-Reeve School with his friend Jon in Metropolis, and Stephanie couldn’t afford Gotham Academy when she was school-age. Dick and Jason regaled him with plenty of stories about how much of a nightmare private school was for them, complete with ignorant assholes (Jason’s words) and privileged scumbags (also Jason’s). 

“Yeah,” Terry responds, staring out the window forlornly.

“If it’ll make you feel better, I can walk in with you,” Bruce offered, finally turning around in his seat to offer Terry a look of sympathy, and Terry began to wonder if he hated Gotham Academy as much as his kids did.

“No, it’s okay,” Terry sighs, adjusting his tie (A tie! Who decided ties were appropriate for children?) and opening the door. It’s a slight jump from the booster seat to the sidewalk, but he doesn’t even stumble so he considers that a win. “I’ll see you later, Bruce. Bye, Mr. Pennyworth. Bye, Matty.”

“Bye bye!” Matt happily waves back, still not completely sure what school means or why Terry has to go every day.

“You will be perfectly fine, Young Master Terrance,” Alfred replies, and ew, Terry hates when he calls him that. Like he’s someone worthy the title of master, and like he’s not some punk from Park Row who once stole a pack of cookies from the grocery store because his parents weren’t paying attention to him.

“Yeah,” Terry replies sullenly, shutting the door with a resigned click. He couldn’t even slam the door properly! It was so expensive, he was worried he’d shatter the glass!

Hiking his backpack further up his shoulders, he begins the trek towards the large, looming front doors of his new school.

Gotham Academy’s elementary department was separate from the rest of the school’s building. It was designed to appeal to children, but not in a way that would appeal to normal children. The doors were an elegant dark oak, propped open by two teachers who observed the students playing on the front grounds with clear disdain. The walls were painted white, with light blue accents decorating the handrails and doorframes. It was more colour than anything else Terry had seen from Gotham’s upper class.

Carefully, Terry climbs up the marble staircase and enters the building, shuffling past the two teachers who have now settled their stares on him. Perhaps they were wondering what a dirty child such as himself was doing on their property. Terry was certainly wondering that himself.

He tries to ignore the looks he undeniably attracts and shuffles his way, head down, towards the administration office. It’s hard to miss, given the large signs above his head pointing the way (Hamilton Elementary didn’t have signs).

When he lifts his gaze, he’s now standing in front of the imposing desk that belongs to the secretary. He’s only slightly taller than it, the desk clearly having been built for the parents. “Hi,” he whispers, fingers fiddling with the straps of his backpack.

“Hello,” the secretary replies, voice clearly a little suspicious, “what do you need?”

“Um,” he runs his thumb over the familiar hole in the left strap. Bruce had offered to get him a new backpack that weekend, but Terry had rejected, wanting some semblance of normality. He kind of wishes he’d agreed, though. “I’m here to pick up my schedule.”

“What name?”

“Terry.”

“I mean surname.”

“Oh,” Terry’s cheeks heat up with embarrassment, “McGinnis.”

The woman hums, pulls out a gridded sheet and hands it to him. “Class starts in ten minutes. Your guide will be here in a minute to show you the way. Don’t be late.”

Terry accepts it with both hands. “Thanks,” he whispers, staring at the confusing mess of numbers and letters he supposed were meant to make up the room numbers. 

Almost in a sulk, Terry turns tail and sits in one of the too-big seats in the waiting area and waits for his apparent buddy. He waits, and thinks about how much he hates this. He waits and wonders what horrors the day will bring. He waits five minutes before the secretary returns to him.

“It seems he won’t be coming,” she replies, nonplussed. “Your first class is just down the hall and to the left.”

“Okay,” Terry nods, shuffling off the seat. He pushes open the admin door and reenters the loud environment of children his own age but hardly his own type.

Perhaps he’s a little self-conscious, but it feels like the entire hall falls silent as they lay their eyes upon him. Perhaps they stare because his bag isn’t designer, or maybe because there’s mud on their shoes. Maybe they stare because they know him, maybe they stare because they don’t. He hates it.

He finds his way to his classroom three minutes past the bell. He can just see his homeroom teacher, Ms. Small, through the window. She looks like she’s dressed for an interview, rather than a class of second graders. A solid dark grey pantsuit which Terry hates because it’s not the bright rainbow colours Miss Holly, his Hamilton Elementary teacher, used to wear. No fun jewellery hanging from her neck or ears, she looks like she’s dressed for professionalism rather than fun.

Nonetheless, fighting the feeling to run away, Terry steps inside.

“Ah,” Ms. Short greets with a too tight smile, “you must be Terrance! Class, we have a new student joining us today, his name is Terrance McGinnis-Wayne.”

And it feels like everything in Terry stops working. His heart stops beating, his breath stops coming and his eyes stop blinking. He hates it. He knew his name wasn’t Wayne, so why did this woman say it was? Did Bruce say something? Was this done in some pathetic attempt to make him seem less of an outsider to his classmates?

“Now, my name is Ms. Short, and I will be your homeroom teacher for the year. I understand you’re still new, but I should tell you that I don’t tolerate anything less than punctuality from my students. Because this is your first day, I’ll let it slide, but make sure it doesn’t happen again, alright?” She doesn’t wait for his response. “Good boy. Now, why don’t you go take your seat next to Mr. Nash?”

There’s something Victorian about the way the seats were arranged. In Miss Holly’s classroom, tables were pushed together to encourage interaction and there was a big pink fluffy carpet in a corner for reading time. But here, there were no fluffy carpets or pushed together tables. The deks were all separate and divided into rows of four and columns of three, with little name tags for the seats. Terry finds his, labelled ‘McGinnis’, next to one named ‘Nash’ and another named ‘Gibson’, in the second row.

Reluctantly, he takes his seat. He struggles with his bag a little, feeling rushed by the countless pairs of eyes watching his every move.

From his right side, Nash passes him a folded piece of paper, addressed to ‘TERENS’. Terry frowns at the blatant misspelling, but nonetheless opens the letter.

HI, IM NELSON  
IS IT TRU YOUR PARENTS ARE DEAD?

Terry’s blood goes cold. He couldn’t think, he couldn’t feel. It was like he was watching his body shut down.

It’s been ten minutes. He’s been here for one day. How was it possible anyone knew anything about him? Bruce promised. He promised.

Tears are rolling down his cheeks now, but he can’t find it in himself to care. All he can think about is the horrible sight of his parents’ bodies, lying cold in the alleyway, his mother’s limp hand gripping the wheel of Matt’s pram. His father’s body resting at Terry’s feet, where he tried to protect him from the bullet that was never meant for him.

He remembers the woman in the black bodysuit, holding the smoking pistol by her thigh. He remembers how she stares at him, even through the mask, with such empty pity. He remembers her climbing the fire escape and running away. He remembers sitting by his parents bodies in silence for what felt like hours before Batman and Robin found him, catatonic to the world.

When Terry next gains awareness, he’s not sure where he is. The smell of food soon hits him, and he realises he must be in the cafeteria. He’s sitting at a table with his classmates, staring blankly at his boxed lunch. Alfred had packed him a flavourless, yet full of nutritional value lunch that Terry has already eaten half of. Terry doesn’t know how long he’s sat here, but he can’t wait to escape the oppressive environment of the cafeteria.

He can hear the whispers of his name behind him. Whispers of ‘Wayne? Like Bruce Wayne?’ overpower the silence of Terry’s thoughts and he can feel himself beginning to spiral again.

“Why would Bruce Wayne adopt him?”

“I watched him walk into a door on his way to lunch. I think there’s something wrong with him.”

“If Bruce adopted him then of course there’s something wrong. Dead parents, probably.”

“Another Wayne freak.”

“Hi.”

The last voice is much closer than the others. In fact, it comes from right next to him. Turning to meet the kinder voice to his left, he finds the resident of the desk named Gibson. She’s holding out a cookie.

“Hi,” Terry replies, his voice not quite as jovial.

“You want my cookie? My mommy packs me two.”

“Okay,” Terry shyly accepts the cookie and bites into it. It’s certainly different to the other cookies he’s had in his life. It’s not stale like the store cookies nor anything fancy like Alfred’s. It’s something made by a mother who loves her daughter. “Thank you.”

“Do you like it?” The girl, Gibson, inquires, eyes bright with curiosity yet filled with the knowledge that she knows he likes them. “I made them with my mommy. She let me put in extra chocolate chips.”

“It’s good.”

The girl beams. “Thank you! I’m Max! The teacher calls me Maxine though, but I don’t like that.”

“I’m Terry,” he replies, suddenly comforted by her presence. There’s something about her that just stands out from the typical Gotham Academy crowd. He thinks he quite likes her. “That’s short for Terrance, by the way, but Terrance is an old man’s name, so I’m Terry.”

“Cool,” Max smiles. “Do you wanna play with my friends and I? Recess starts in seven minutes.”

Terry swallows. So far the other students haven’t quite liked him so far. But if Max’s friends are anything like Max herself, they might be nice. Now there’s a thought.

“Okay,” he nods, finishing off the cookie that’s the same size as Matt’s hand, “thanks.”

“Yay!”

So they talk for the seven minutes until they’re released for recess. Terry learns Max doesn’t come from a rich family, she was just given a scholarship because of her parents’ work with Wayne Industries. Max learns about Matt and makes Terry promise to let her meet him someday (which is quite an exciting thought! Terry’s never had any friends to take home before). Eventually, the bell rings, and the students’ excited chatter explodes. The tables are released one at a time through the large double doors at the back of the cafeteria, which give way to the largest, shiniest, most expensive playground Terry has ever seen.

“Wow,” he whispers in astonishment. Max giggles and grabs his hand.

“Come on!” she cheers. “My friends and I always meet at the swings!”

She drags him towards a large swingset at the back of the playground, where the sand of the play area meets the grass of the gardens. At the swings wait three girls, two blondes and one girl whose hair is almost as dark as Terry’s.

“Guys, look!” Max calls out to the waiting trio. “Everyone, this is Terry, which is short for Terrance but he doesn’t like that so we call him Terry!”

“Oh, wow, hi Terry!” one of the blondes, the one with her hair in delicate braids with pink ribbons, greets. “I’m Chelsea Cunningham! My daddy’s an archaeologist!”

“Hi Terry, I’m Dana,” the dark-haired girl, Dana, smiles at him, continuing her swing, “we have the same hair, we can be siblings.”

“Terry already has a sibling, Dana,” Max replies with such infliction she might as well be an expert on the subject, “he can’t have another!”

“You have a sibling too!” the other blonde girl, whose hair is shorter and curlier than Chelsea’s. “Is it a boy or a girl? I have an older brother, and he’s a big jerk!”

“His name’s, uh, Matt,” Terry replies, suddenly overwhelmed by all this positive attention. “He’s my younger brother.”

“Oh wow, I wish I had a younger brother!” the girl swoons. “Jack is always picking on me! My name’s Melanie, by the way!”

“It’s nice to meet you all,” Terry smiles back.

“Do you wanna play Tag with us, Terry?” Max inquires, still clinging to Terry’s hand. “We always play tag but it’s no fun with four people. But with five people we could do a lot more! We can play superhero tag! I’m always Batgirl, but we do need a Batman!”

Chelsea gasped with delight. “Oh, yes please! I wanna be Batwoman!”

“I call Spoiler!” Melanie cheers. “Spoiler is my favourite!”

“I wanna be Black Bat,” Dana adds, “she’s my favourite. I like her hair.”

For the first time all day, Terry doesn’t feel as nauseous. “Okay!”

And when Bruce came to pick him up that evening, four hours later, he was delighted to find his latest addition happily playing superheroes with four girls. It seems he was worried for nothing.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked that!! You've all been so nice in my last work, and I cannot thank you enough!! Now, I have a question. I originally planned a second chapter to this, featuring Matt's day out without his big brother, but I wasn't sure, so my question is: Would you guys like to see that? If not, I'll leave the story as is!


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